Page 64 of Over the Edge

“Much.”

“Shall we schedule another appointment for later in the week? I know we’d decided to scale back to monthly visits, but in light of all that’s happened, it may be wise to see each other more often for a while.”

“I agree. I’ll call tomorrow and see if Margie can find me a slot during regular office hours.”

He stood. “If you have any problem scheduling, let meknow. And remember, if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I appreciate your accessibility.”

“Always. Take care, and I hope you sleep better.” He opened the private exit door.

“I’m sure I will.”

She walked down the hall, her footsteps silent on the carpet in the professional building that was quiet at this hour, since most occupants were gone for the day.

Almost too quiet.

A shiver snaked through her, and she looked over her shoulder. Shook her head.

Must be the hypervigilance Dr. Oliver had mentioned. Not that caution was bad—as long as it didn’t morph into paranoia. But he didn’t seem overly concerned about that, nor about her mental state in general.

It was unfortunate Detective Tucker wasn’t as convinced her mind was sound.

But what did it matter? Unless she remembered another relevant detail about James Robertson’s killer, there would be no justification for further contact. And after his fast escape from her condo yesterday, he wasn’t likely to seek her out.

Which was good, given her feelings about him. After all, while he exuded professional competence, he also came with a ton of baggage as far as she was concerned. And that wasn’t a complication she needed in her life.

Yet as she hurried toward her car in the November darkness, the notion of not seeing him again didn’t offer much solace.

Odd.

But whatever the explanation for that reaction, she’d get over it. If she never had to talk about the Robertson case again it would be too soon. And what were the odds another incident like yesterday’s would bring them together?

Slim to none, which suited her fine. She could do without any more excitement in her life for the foreseeable future.

After sliding behind the wheel of her car, she locked the doors and tossed her purse onto the seat beside her.

Going forward, she’d follow Dr. Oliver’s advice. Stick with her routine. Keep everything as normal as she could. Try not to worry about her mental state.

And hope nothing else happened to rock her life as that unseen force had rocked her scull in the early morning hours yesterday at Creve Coeur Lake.

THIS WAS HIS CHANCE.

Eric braced as Heidi Robertson exited her husband’s office early Tuesday evening, long after most of the employees had left for the day and hours after she’d met with the key leadership for a briefing on financials and pending deals.

Fabricating an excuse to extend his day hadn’t been difficult, even if it was out of pattern. But she didn’t know anything about his usual work schedule, so this aberration wouldn’t raise any red flags with her. And hanging around, waiting for an opportunity to talk to her alone, was about the only way he’d be able to get a handle on her personality along with a few insights into her business acumen, as Nolan had directed.

“Good evening, Ms. Robertson.” He stepped forward as she strode toward the exterior door.

She paused, faint parallel creases denting her forehead. “Good evening.”

He introduced himself and explained his role in the company. “I wanted to express my condolences on the loss of your husband.”

“Thank you.” She opened her purse and pulled out her keys.

“If there’s anything I can help you with here at the officewhile you get up to speed on the business, please let me know.”

“I appreciate that.” She glanced at her watch.

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